The myrtle (ensign of supreme command,Consignd to Venus by Melissas hand;)In myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain,In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain;The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,The unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads.Soon must this sprig, as you shall fix its doom,Adorn Philanders head, or grace his tomb. Dr. Johnson.Written at the request of a gentleman to whom a lady had given a sprig of myrtle.